


Night Off

by colonellaurens



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Fluff, Oval Office, i stress write lol, paternal instincts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 23:16:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6540577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonellaurens/pseuds/colonellaurens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As he reached for the cup of coffee and brought it to his lips, she said, “Three sugars. Just how you like it.” It was an extra touch. Having been Washington’s assistant for so long, she didn’t need to be told when to bring him some coffee, or how to prepare it. By now, Eliza knew, and she also knew how appreciated her efforts were when she saw the president regard her warmly, almost as if she was of his own flesh and blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Off

**Author's Note:**

> In an attempt to avoid my schoolwork, I have put aside my other fic (I'll get on that soon, I promise) and decided to write a little thing.  
> Thank you to my dear friend Hunter for giving me the idea to write this (and also helped me write it, bless her). Go check out her fics at [ HunterByDayWhovianByNight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HunterByDayWhovianByNight/pseuds/HunterByDayWhovianByNight). She is so good. Please. 
> 
> Anyhow, enjoy.

Eliza knocked on the door to the oval office.

 

Hearing a voice come from the other side, she opened the door, carrying a stack of papers close to her chest and balancing a fresh mug of coffee in the same hand. Black with three sugars, just as the president likes it.

Walking up to the desk, the sound of her heels muffled by the rug, Eliza spoke. “The papers you asked for, sir.” She placed the folder on his desk, along with the steaming mug, in a corner of the desk. 

Washington looked up from his papers, spotting the coffee first, and then the folder he had asked for just minutes before. “Ah, thank you, miss Eliza.”

As he reached for the cup of coffee and brought it to his lips, she said, “Three sugars. Just how you like it.” It was an extra touch. Having been Washington’s assistant for so long, she didn’t need to be told when to bring him some coffee, or how to prepare it. By now, Eliza knew, and she also knew how appreciated her efforts were when she saw the president regard her warmly, almost as if she was of his own flesh and blood. 

She waited a moment longer for any further instruction, but hearing none, she simply nodded and turned to walk away. 

“Miss Eliza.”

She turned back. “Yes, sir?”

After a moment’s contemplation flashed through his eyes, he said, “Take the rest of the night off.”

Eliza turned around fully, standing up a little bit straighter. “Are you sure?”

He shrugged slightly, an action more like a tensing of the shoulders. “It’s 8 pm on a Friday night. Surely a beautiful woman such as yourself has plans.”

“Plans?” She let out a small, charming laugh. 

“Yes. But don’t go out and drink too much,” Washington said in a stern voice.

“Thanks, dad,” Eliza said, partially joking. 

Washington’s eyes widened slightly, and he didn’t speak for a long time. Eliza felt some sort of panic well at the pit of her stomach. That was probably the wrong thing to say.

“Sir?” She asked, stepping forward.

“Am I like a dad to you?” He asked suddenly.

The question startled her. Was he? Well, he  _ did _ have a few paternal qualities that he expressed only to a select few, herself included. Eliza thought it was sweet of him to care for her like a father would, and sometimes, he cared more than her own father does. 

“You are,” she decided on saying, leaning a bit on the desk. “That is to say, you care for me like one would. And I really appreciate that.”

There was a long pause after that. Eliza could see the president forming his words carefully in his mind as her words sunk in. His eyes were focused on his hands folded before them, worn from both war, and more recently, writing. 

After an indeterminate amount of time, he met her gaze. 

“I’m glad you think of me that way, miss Eliza,” he said, voice laced with a hint of emotion. Eliza only smiled.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.” She placed a light hand on his shoulder for a moment, before withdrawing and standing up straight. She stood, for a moment, by the president’s desk, and smiled, all warmth and goodness. “Have a good night, sir.” 

Eliza reached the door, and hesitated for a moment before leaving. She looked back with amiability, smiled once more, and said, “Thank you.”

As her footsteps retreated outside the room, and the door shut with a soft thud, Washington allowed their small conversation to wash over him. He had always wanted children of his own. Perhaps it was his natural paternal instinct that made his eyes well up with tears at the knowledge that someone thought of him as a father figure. 

  
In any case, he got back to work with a warm feeling in his chest, and a new found determination to complete all his work to the best of his abilities. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Risky Business](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7565860) by [HunterByDayWhovianByNight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunterByDayWhovianByNight/pseuds/HunterByDayWhovianByNight)




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